A Wartime Romance
by Rhodanthe
Summary: Set immediately after Biggles Fails to Return, the story unfolds over the next two years. A behind-the -scenes story. The italics in the opening chapter are WE Johns own words. Some of the chapters are short and were done so as to provide logical break points.
1. Chapter 1

**November 1942**

Squadron Leader James Bigglesworth came slowly down the steps of the Air Ministry and onto Kingsway. The wound on his side had begun to play up with the exertions of the last days in Monaco but the week's rest in Algiers had gone someway to heal it.

Reports had been completed to their satisfaction and Air Commodore Raymond had expressed his gratitude.

_"Well that's that," remarked Biggles. 'I suppose we might as well get back to the squadron."_

_"I've got a spot of leave to finish if you don't mind, sir," said Ginger meekly._

_Biggles raised his eyebrows "What do you want leave for?"_

_"Well, I've got to see my tailors about a new uniform and one or two other things" explained Ginger in an offhand way._

_Biggles smiled. Algy shook his head sadly. Bertie winked._

_"Give her my love and all that sort of rot-if you see what I mean?"_

_"You run away and polish your eyeglass, troubadour," sneered Ginger and hailed a passing taxi_

"Don't do anything I wouldn't do," called Algy as the taxi drove away.

"Women!" snorted Bertie. "They'll be the ruin of him."

"Possibly," said Algy. "He's young, attractive, and enjoys a bit of fun. He can't help it if WAAF girls on the base are falling over themselves for his attention. Up until now he's not been bothered. More than one good man has been bowled over by a pretty face before, and done stupid things."

"But Jeanette could also be the making of him," he added hastily, as he glanced at Biggles' face. "Shall we head back?"

"You go ahead. I'll catch you at Victoria."

Algy nodded understandingly. "Come on Bertie, old fruit. I'll stand you an ice cream."

"An ice cream!" exclaimed Bertie. "I should jolly well think so if you can find one!"

Biggles sank onto the step and lit a cigarette. He remembered back to the closing days of the first war.

Marie.

His first love.

He remembered the happy days as if it was yesterday and how sharp and bitter the pain of betrayal had been in contrast.

Over the years he'd tried to tell himself he didn't care, but still he wondered what had happened to her. Had she really loved him? She must have, or she wouldn't have come back to leave a letter. Could he have continued to love her? Could he have lived with himself? She tried to destroy his friends that day. Life without Algy was unthinkable. Had he really been so stupid as to fall for a pretty face and throw caution to the winds?

He'd known her a week. He'd been lucky to have come out of the whole affair without a court-martial He knew he'd been vulnerable, having returned from a distasteful posting in Palestine to the news his brother had been killed in action. He'd let down his guard.

He'd only been a kid, even younger than Ginger.

He stabbed his cigarette out viciously and lit another, inhaling deeply.

Bah!

He hoped Ginger would never have to feel the same kind of pain or to suffer the consequences of his own stupidity. But judging from Ginger's reaction, he was as capable of being equally as hot-headed as he himself had been.

Suddenly he felt old.

His body ached and he was dog tired.

He stood up. The morning's sunny sky had clouded over and matched his mood. The twinge in his side reminded him of his recent injury.

Well, he wouldn't let his past blight the boy's future. He'd have to keep an eye on Ginger and made sure he straightened up and flew right, as Algy had tried to do for him over so many years.

But sometimes he wondered if the pain would ever go away. Would it continue to dog him until he went topsides?

"Maybe the sooner the better for all," he thought bitterly, grinding out his cigarette.

"'Captain James'!" A young cheerful voice broke in on his thoughts.

He turned to see the speaker and found himself looking into a large pair of very alive brown eyes.


	2. Chapter 2

"By Jove, 'Miss Mary'!" Biggles exclaimed in surprise. "It's been simply ages!"

She smiled, her eyes crinkling around the edges in the way he remembered well.

She'd changed a little since he last had seen her. Instead of schoolgirl plaits, her dark brown hair was tied back and pinned in place at the back of her neck. The large brown eyes sparkled in her heart-shaped face. Her slight olive colouring and full lips betrayed the Anglo-Indian heritage on her mother's side. She had grown since he had last seen her, and now was almost the same height as he. His heart lightened as he looked at her.

"Have you come to see your father?"

"Oh dear me no! He'll act like I've tried to smuggle Hitler into the war office if I haven't made an appointment," said Mary with a laugh. "Mother included a letter for him with mine this morning and I'll leave it with his secretary."

Her eyes examined his tired and emaciated face keenly. "What about a spot of tea and a catch up? I could just do with a cup and I'm sure you could too. If you have time that is," she added.

Biggles paused. He was tired and sore, but the faint wistful note in her voice didn't escape him. He couldn't be rude. He'd known her a long time. And he did need a cup of tea, didn't he?

"That would be nice."

"Lovely. I'll be back directly," and with that Mary Raymond ran up the steps and into the building.

Biggles watched her lithe figure go and tried to remember the last time he had seen her run. Was it when Ginger had pinched her hat or her brother had put a frog in her teacup?

He must be getting soft. Bertie would think so for accepting the invitation.

"There! That's done. Shall we?" Mary was back; her eyes scanning his face carefully, noting the shadows and lines that now marred his still boyish face.

Biggles eyes met hers for a second. "We shall," he said with a smile.


	3. Chapter 3

The tea shop, surprisingly, wasn't particularly busy for that time of day.

"This is what passes for afternoon tea these days," sighed Mary, looking at the meagre slices of cake on the plate. "Still, at least it doesn't come out of the rations! Shall I be mother and pour?"

"Please."

Mary put down the teapot. "So what have you been doing since I last saw you?"

"Fighting a war," snarled Biggles.

Mary dropped the tea strainer she had been holding with a clatter and looked stricken.

"Sorry Biggles I didn't mean it like that."

Biggles looked contrite. "I know you didn't, kid. It hasn't been an easy couple of weeks and I took my beastly temper out on you. I'm sorry Mary."

"Would it help to tell me about it?"

Their eyes met. Biggles saw the compassion in her brown eyes. He felt... something. He put it down as hunger.

"It might. I'm not sure what I can and if I can, if you see what I mean?"

"Yes. Take your time."

Biggles took a sip of his tea.

"A few weeks ago I was asked to go somewhere to do something. The situation was more complicated than expected and became more so when I stopped a bullet. It looked as if I would be staying where I was for the duration." Biggles spoke quietly and in a monotone. "Algy, Ginger and Bertie came to find me, and in doing so Ginger caught one in the thigh and Bertie got a knock on the head. They found me. We had to leave quickly and bring some people home. Ginger has fallen in love with one of the girls." He laughed bitterly.

"Have some more tea."

Biggles took another gulp and crumbled some cake on his plate, his fingers shaking slightly.

Mary looked at them thoughtfully.

"Why should Ginger being in love upset you so much? Is there something objectionable about the girl?"

"Jeanette? No! It's just..., I just..."

"Are you afraid he will get hurt?"

Biggles paused to think for a moment. "Or someone else. Or do something stupid."

"Biggles, it's war. War itself is stupid. It's inevitable that some people we love will get hurt. But being in love doesn't have to hurt."

Biggles looked up and his red-rimmed eyes met hers in silent anguish.

"Oh Biggles!" Mary took his cold hand. The circle of her identity bracelet made a warm spot on his wrist. "Who did this to you, my friend?" she asked gently.

He looked down at her hand holding his for a moment debating whether to remove it before replying.

"Her name was Marie. I met her in the last days of the first war. I did something incredibly stupid – delivered a letter over the lines to her father. It had a secret map with the location of our squadron marked on it. It was going to be bombed by the Germans. It failed. She left me a letter telling me she had come to take me away that night or die with me and she loved me.

The brass-hats somehow found out about her. I was shot down in flames in more ways than one."

"Could you have continued to love a woman you believed killed your friends?"

"I found myself asking that question earlier today," he answered slowly. "No. And I probably couldn't have lived with myself had she succeeded. You don't want to think someone you love is capable of cold-blooded murder and deceit. But it still bothers me after all this time."

Mary poured him another cup of tea.

"It bothers you because you haven't let it go, Biggles. You've held onto it for what – over twenty years? It's been there, like a knot in your stomach, gnawing away, colouring every move, every decision. Yes, what you did was hot-headed and stupid. In wartime anyone can be capable of murder. Every time I look at the ruined men we try and piece back together I want to take a shotgun to Hitler. We can't control who we love any more than who we hate; just what we do with it. But maybe the circumstances were beyond her control and she was just doing her job – as Daddy tells me you have done."

Biggles eyes blazed. "I've never used another person without their knowledge or sent them to do something I wouldn't do myself!" he exclaimed.

"And that's the difference isn't it? You don't plan to fall in love. It's something that just happens," she added.

"Maybe," sighed Biggles.

Both Biggles and Mary drank their now cold tea. Biggles grimaced.

"Miss, could we have some more hot water please?"

"Certainly, sir." the waitress smiled as she brought their water.

Biggles poured some hot water into their cups

"That's better," Mary smiled at Biggles.

She was pleased he looked a little less careworn than he had an hour ago


	4. Chapter 4

When the bill arrived each had insisted on paying for the tea, saying it was their treat. After settling the bill between them they walked outside. The earlier cloud was beginning to produce its promised rain.

"This will never do. You'll get your feet wet and I need to see you home safely before I meet up with Algy and Bertie at Victoria station. We need a taxi. Biggles hailed one as it went past.

"So what brought you to London, Mary?" Biggles asked when they were settled in the taxi and Mary had given the driver her address.

"I needed to do something useful for the war effort."

"But not sewing?" quizzed Biggles.

"No definitely not! You know my love of sewing", she laughed. "That was one of the few Guide badges I couldn't win. I trade with the girls at the hostel. I fix things or give them finger waves if they do my sewing for me. It's kept me in clothes so far."

She continued. "Daddy said it was wicked to take paid jobs away from girls who need them while I had an allowance so I joined the WVS. I do anything that needs to be done, sometimes I work with the IIP, but most of my efforts are in a hospital garden with other volunteers. The grounds have been turned over to vegetables and sometimes the convalescent servicemen help out with things. We try and have things so that almost everyone, no matter what their injury is, can do something. Tell Algy we had a few sunflowers where we couldn't grow vegetables in summer!"

Biggles laughed as the taxi drew up outside the Girls' Friendly Society, an imposing barracks of a building where many women engaged in war work were living.

"Wait please driver."

Biggles and Mary got out.

"I hope it's comfortable here?"

"Oh yes. Much better than the digs we stayed in before. I share a room on the third floor with my school friend Agatha. She's a nurse at the hospital. I'm lucky to have her and we can share the costs."

Mary laid her hand on Biggles's arm.

"Biggles, I wouldn't worry too much about Ginger. You knew we have been writing to each other as friends? Ginger has got his head screwed on properly and is unlikely to go too far overboard. And he's got you and Algy to guide him. If she truly loves him he won't come to any harm." Mary blushed slightly.

Biggles looked searchingly at Mary for a moment. Had she felt something for Ginger? "If he loves her he'll never hurt her. Any man who loves a woman as she should be loved would do the same," replied Biggles quietly. "I must go. Goodbye 'Miss Mary'."

"Goodbye 'Captain James'."

Mary watched the taxi until it turned the corner. She rubbed a tired hand across her face and swore softly, much to the shock of the elderly lady walking past. She vowed if she ever caught up with that woman she'd know about it!

Biggles sank back into the cushions of the taxi and sighed.

"Is that your sweetheart?" asked the driver

"No, just a very wise friend."

"Where to?"

"Somewhere near Victoria Station where I can get a drink."

"Any place in particular?"

"I don't care. I need a drink."


	5. Chapter 5

Algy and Bertie were waiting when Biggles finally joined them. He smelled slightly of whisky and looked very tired. On the journey down they found him distracted and unwilling to talk.

Algy had given Bertie the barest outline while they had waited. Both put his distraction down to the memories that Algy's thoughtless comment had raised earlier.

Truthfully Biggles was exhausted. He knew once he got back to station the MO would give him a thorough going over and would be likely to ground him for a day or two.

He was eager to get back to his comrades: the men who were tied to him by such bonds of friendship as only war can create. Algy and Ginger were the only real family he had left and it looked as if he might be losing one of them soon. But as the train travelled rapidly back towards the aerodrome his thoughts kept straying to a pair of brown eyes.


	6. Chapter 6

"Dear Mary,

I apologise for my rudeness the other day over tea. I was rather worked up about things and I feel I may have taken it out on you.

When I returned to the aerodrome the MO took me off duties for a couple of days.

I had plenty of time to think about our conversation.

How did one so young get to be so wise and understanding 'Miss Mary'?

Thank you.

How are things with you? Are your vegetables surviving the weather?

I hope to come to town sometime in the next month. Would you be free for tea or lunch, to catch up?

Yours,

Biggles"

1234567 Squadron Leader James Bigglesworth

Squadron 666

APO England

"Dear 'Captain James',

I'm pleased if I was able to help you in a small way. You've helped my brother and me on many occasions. We've known each other for many years, haven't we?

'Wise'? I've never been called that before. I'm sure Daddy wouldn't agree with you.

I would be delighted to take you up on your offer, but I may only have time to snatch a quick cuppa in our canteen. My work is changing!

I have been asked to work more with our recuperating wounded, to work with them on things that may help them to lead something of a normal life. The doctors have found that a number of them respond to working in the garden. They call it 'occupational therapy'.

The nights are the hardest to bear for many of these poor men. I think I have learned more on my first night duty than I have in my previous two years in the hospital! Sometimes all I can do is hold their hand or give them a glass of water and listen to them talk.

Agatha reminds me that things do get better!

Looking forward to meeting up with you if I can. Let me know closer to the time.

Mary"

"Dear Mary

I'm booked for leave Friday night. My train is due to arrive at Victoria at 9am Saturday. I have to be back by the 5pm train Sunday. It's Algy's birthday this week and I need to buy him a present. Hoping you can help me.

Please let me know by return if you are free during this time.

Biggles"

"Biggles,

Meet you at the station.

MR"


	7. Chapter 7

"Dear Mary,

I apologise for my rudeness the other day over tea. I was rather worked up about things and I feel I may have taken it out on you.

When I returned to the aerodrome the MO took me off duties for a couple of days.

I had plenty of time to think about our conversation.

How did one so young get to be so wise and understanding 'Miss Mary'?

Thank you.

How are things with you? Are your vegetables surviving the weather?

I hope to come to town sometime in the next month. Would you be free for tea or lunch, to catch up?

Yours,

Biggles"

1234567 Squadron Leader James Bigglesworth

Squadron 666

APO England

"Dear 'Captain James',

I'm pleased if I was able to help you in a small way. You've helped my brother and me on many occasions. We've known each other for many years, haven't we?

'Wise'? I've never been called that before. I'm sure Daddy wouldn't agree with you.

I would be delighted to take you up on your offer, but I may only have time to snatch a quick cuppa in our canteen. My work is changing!

I have been asked to work more with our recuperating wounded, to work with them on things that may help them to lead something of a normal life. The doctors have found that a number of them respond to working in the garden. They call it 'occupational therapy'.

The nights are the hardest to bear for many of these poor men. I think I have learned more on my first night duty than I have in my previous two years in the hospital! Sometimes all I can do is hold their hand or give them a glass of water and listen to them talk.

Agatha reminds me that things do get better!

Looking forward to meeting up with you if I can. Let me know closer to the time.

Mary"

"Dear Mary

I'm booked for leave Friday night. My train is due to arrive at Victoria at 9am Saturday. I have to be back by the 5pm train Sunday. It's Algy's birthday this week and I need to buy him a present. Hoping you can help me.

Please let me know by return if you are free during this time.

Biggles"

"Biggles,

Meet you at the station.

MR"


	8. Chapter 8

The train journey to London was uneventful. Hundreds of Army and Air Force personnel in khaki and blue filled the early train, all eager to make the most of their leave. Biggles, wearing his service dress and greatcoat, looked out of the window, the smoke from his cigarette curling gently upwards. It was Algy's birthday on Tuesday, and Ginger had commissioned him to buy something on his behalf as soon as he knew he was going to London.

As the train pulled in, a tidal wave of humanity intent on seeing their loved ones again surged towards the train.

Biggles saw Mary was waiting on the platform, standing well back from the tide. Even from where he was seated he could see she looked tired and dishevelled.

He waited for the crowd to clear slightly, picked up his haversack, and then pushed his way through the entwined couples towards her.

"Did you ever see such a sight?" he exclaimed disgustedly.

"Frequently," chuckled Mary. "So long as they don't do it in the street and scare the horses!" She said in a posh accent and pretended to peer through an imaginary monocle.

It was Biggles turn to laugh. "You sound so much like one of my squadron."

"Oh dear, I didn't mean to be rude."

"You weren't. It was funny. And Bertie would appreciate the joke I think. The only time I've ever seen that man ruffled is when he lost his monocle. He'd be the first to describe himself as 'a silly ass'. He's an eccentric – although your father describes him as 'mad as a hatter'. But there's more to him than most people give him credit for. You look tired, old girl," Biggles surveyed her keenly.

"Oh I am! I drew unexpected late duty last night and it was an unsettled night. So many just wanted to talk and be reassured they were going to be all right, that their best girl would continue to love them despite their scars." Her breath caught on a slight sob.

Biggles put his hand on her shoulder. "Steady now."

Mary took a deep breath. "Thanks, but the good news is that I don't have to be back there until Monday morning and I'm determined to help choose Algy's birthday present and forget about this war. What would you like to do first?"

"I need to drop my kit off at home first. Then what about a cup of tea?"

"Cracking idea."

They walked in silence for a short while.

"What did you think of getting for Algy?"

"I'm not sure. We never know if we're likely to be posted quickly so I think something small might be in order."

"That sounds practical. I might send him an order for sunflower seeds."

"Mary, how am I going to explain to Algy why he has a birthday present from you?"

"Simple – you met me by chance while you were choosing yours and I insisted on adding something from an old friend."

They walked past barricades surrounding the ruins of a once-proud house before rounding the corner into Mount Street.

They turned up a set of stairs about halfway down and Biggles rang the doorbell.

"Oh sir it's delightful to see you! Welcome home!"

"Thank you, Mrs Symes. It's good to be home. May I introduce Miss Mary Raymond? Do you remember her father Colonel Raymond? I met her at the station and she's agreed to help me choose a present for Algy."

"Oh yes, Mr. Lacey's birthday. Miss Raymond, I certainly do remember your father. Would you both like a cup of tea? The kettle's just boiling."

"That would be lovely."

"You'll find Mrs Symes always has the kettle 'just boiling'," said Biggles with a smile as she bustled out of the room.

In the kitchen Mrs Symes rubbed fat and flour together for scones and considered. She resolved to learn more about Mary Raymond before she was very much older.

Over tea and scones with Mrs Symes, they discussed what to buy for Algy's birthday. Mrs Symes, with a blush, said she felt that Mr Lacey might need new underthings, Biggles plumped for a new cigarette lighter, and Mary suggested a new 'housewife'. Biggles reminded her they had been issued with a basic one as part of their RAF issue, but thought Algy would appreciate a better-quality one.

From their relaxed attitude and 'do you remembers' it was obvious they were old friends. But her employer had never had much time for women. There was nothing lover-like in their behaviour. In fact Mr Bigglesworth treated Miss Raymond very much like he treated Master Ginger when he'd first brought him home. She wondered where this would lead as she took the plates back to the kitchen.

"Will you be in for lunch, sir?"


	9. Chapter 9

They wandered through Hyde Park, a pleasant enough place during daytime, although to be avoided at night. Nearby, Kensington Gardens' lawns had been replaced by rows of vegetables.

Mary and Biggles decided to try Harrods first. Biggles was worried about the prices. Mary pointed out that nobody had any money these days, so something small from there would be special.

Biggles chose underwear, sacrificing four of his own coupons, remarking that 'sometimes Algy flies by the seat of his pants'. On behalf of Ginger they chose a 'housewife' and Mary insisted on adding an embroidered handkerchief out of her own coupons.

As their purchases were being wrapped, Biggles asked Mary, "what would you like to do later?"

"I hadn't really thought, Biggles."

"Dinner and dancing? The flicks? West End show? Trapshooting? My treat

"Well, not dancing. I can't see you being comfortable with girls fighting over you. The music is good though," she added.

Biggles looked horrified. "By Jove, I should think not! Not my scene at all."

"I haven't done any targets or clay pigeons since I was last at home. Curfew is at 10pm so whatever we decide on I need to be back before then."

"Then what about an afternoon show at the flicks, then dinner? Did you see there's a new 'Laurel and Hardy film' showing at the Plaza?"

"Lovely!"

They took their purchases back to Mount Street where Mrs Symes was waiting with a simple lunch of vegetable soup and toast.


	10. Chapter 10

Mary and Biggles sat in the darkened cinema. Mary was enthralled by The British North Africa campaign newsreel featuring a new weapon attached to the Hurricane 'known to the RAF as the Tin-opener, and rightly so' ("is it really like that?" she whispered to Biggles. "Not entirely," he replied. "Spits are better.") Soon Biggles was laughing at the ridiculous antics in the cartoon 'War Dogs'.

The nearly full theatre rang with laughter during the main feature.

Both Mary and Biggles were weeping with laughter at Stan and Ollie. Occasionally during a lull in the action they'd glance at each other and start laughing again.

"Oh dear," gasped Mary when the feature was over. "I'm so glad we don't have air raid wardens like that!"

It was dark when they left the theatre chuckling and mopping their eyes.

"Now..." Biggles held up his hand for silence, listening intently. In the distance was the wail of an air raid siren. "I don't think you will make it back to your digs in time for curfew."

The sound of the bombers could clearly be heard above the noise of the anti-aircraft guns in the underground shelter.

"Junkers," thought Biggles grimly, finding a place to sit.

Women were passing tea and sandwiches around; there were only a few children; some were playing; some were crying; some were clutching at battered toys. Underlying the smell of human habitation was the smell of fear.

Mary brought Biggles a cup of tea and a sandwich and sat down beside him.

"Dinner?"

"Thanks."

They sat in silence for a while, listening. Snatches of song could be heard; particularly noticeable was one about something Hitler was missing.

"I should be up there. Topsides. Stopping them."

"Where do you think they were going?"

"Reading? Cardiff?" A whistle followed by a distant crash

"East End?" asked Mary.

"Sounds like it."

Biggles sighed, lighting a cigarette. "Back on the station we'd be harassing these Huns. I hate sitting around waiting."

"I wish I'd brought my knitting. Maybe I can scrounge a couple of newspapers?"

"Good scheme."

Mary found a couple of newspapers and Biggles read for a while.

"Winston Churchill has just celebrated his birthday. It's hard to believe he's 69 isn't it Mary? Mary...?"

Biggles looked down Mary was asleep. He took off his greatcoat and placed it gently over her.


End file.
